Take Me Home
by Skilverlight
Summary: [AU] Yukio is entirely aware of Ryouta's past sexual escapades when he agrees to date him.


Disclaimer: Don't Own.

Word Count: 3416

Pairing: KasaKise

Overall this contains brief mentions of mature content, self harm, depression, promiscuity, etc.

This is partly based on my own headcanon that Kise is a slut. Being a model he can pretty much just crook a finger and get someone in bed. So there ya go.

This _does_ have fluff though. On another note, Kasamatsu is about 3-5 years older than Kise in this, but really it doesn't impact the story, well, at all really.

Miraculously this is also the very first KaKi fic I've written, and It hit me at random, and I actually haven't been able to write anything for a few months so, woo! Enjoy?

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**Take Me Home**

Yukio is entirely aware of Ryouta's past sexual escapades when he agrees to date him. He's a popular model, and as such, he also had the tendency to whore around when he felt like it. Yukio agreed to date Ryouta on the grounds that he'd stop, that if he needed sexual release, Ryouta would come solely to Yukio; if the blonde were in love with him half as much as he claimed, there'd be no issue.

The problem lies in the fact that Yukio works in an office. He's a few years older than popular model, Kise Ryouta, and as such, he'd already started his climb up the corporate ladder before the blonde bombshell made an impact on him, before he'd accidentally tripped over Ryouta in an office supply store, where he'd been ducking behind a shelf—Yukio recalls seeing a group of women looking for something, and now he's got a general idea of _what_—and Yukio had been single-mindedly searching for that damn specific kind of printer ink that his boss preferred to use.

From that point on he practically always ran into Ryouta in some way. And more often than not, when he was coming out of a hotel that Yukio happened to be walking past, and it's a no-brainer _why_ Ryouta was in that hotel. It's about a year before Yukio agrees to date Ryouta, the blonde managing to talk him into dinner at a fancy restaurant—Yukio refuses to let him pay the entirety, he doesn't care how much cash Ryouta has—and the same night they wind up in bed for the first time and Yukio learns exactly how much Ryouta's escapades have expanded his sexual repertoire.

And as such, his position in the company also requires business trips; something Ryouta hates. They'd been dating approximately three months before Yukio had to go on his first business trip. A week-long trip; the Tokyo branch of Kaijou was to meet with the branch in Kyoto and discuss business plans with their business partner, Rakuzan. At the end of the day, he and Ryouta would Skype until Yukio was too tired to talk anymore, and for the first few days, this was fine.

When the discussions finish earlier than projected, Yukio returns a full two days earlier than planned. He comes home, half expecting Ryouta to be at his apartment because he misses Yukio, but it's empty. Yukio takes the time to freshen up, change into more suitable clothes for being home, before he walks half-way across the city to Ryouta's apartment. It's a nicer complex than his own, but the guard at the entrance lets him in, considering how much Yukio had been there. He pulls his key out the moment he's outside of Ryouta's door, and finding it oddly quiet.

Or so he thought when he goes to Ryouta's bedroom, thinking that maybe he was asleep only to find the door cracked. His stomach clenches and drops at what he sees though. His boyfriend's legs are spread wide, held open by dark tan hands as one of Ryouta's hands pumps at his cock, high cries and whines passing through kiss-swollen lips as he's fucked into. Yukio doesn't realize he's slid the door open just a bit further, and a soft noise of distress leaves his throat just as Ryouta's eyes open before he shrieks out his orgasm. Yukio's quick to vacate after that.

It's about three days later when Ryouta arrives at Yukio's own apartment, tears slipping down his cheeks and crying out apologies. Somehow Yukio's able to forgive him, whom ends up with a lapful of Ryouta, where later they move to the bed where Yukio pets his hair until they both fall asleep.

Ryouta stays abstinent for two weeks before he manages to get Yukio into bed again, and only because he arrives at Yukio's apartment while he's asleep and Yukio has morning wood. Ryouta's more than willing to take care of that for him.

It's another two months before Yukio has another business trip. A new company opened in Osaka, and they'd thought Yukio would be the best to send. He was the best at his job. He was perfect for it! And so he goes.

This trip takes significantly longer, but Ryouta promises that works hard and keeping him extremely distracted, and while he misses Yukio, he'll be okay, work's running him ragged because it's time to work on the summer ads and photo shoots and that he was going to be modeling a new brand of cologne and a swimsuit brand! Yukio simply chuckles while Ryouta blows him a kiss over the video camera, chirps he loves him, and ends the call because he needs to rest.

Two weeks later he comes home—to _their _home because Ryouta decided it was high time they should live together and abruptly moved in with Yukio rather than the other way around—to Ryouta with some tall redhead hammering into him from behind on their couch, Ryouta unable to be silent for the life of him. The redhead almost instantly notices Yukio's presence and stops, stock still and to the hilt within Ryouta's body. Ryouta cries out angrily, turning his head to see why the fuck he'd stopped, only to freeze when he saw Yukio. Yukio, who was frozen in the doorway, brows dipped down, expression radiating hurt and pain.

He turned around once he'd heard his name—"Yukio-san!"—and left the apartment. He'd didn't want to deal with this shit. Ryouta, who obviously couldn't go longer than a few days without being fucked—into the couch, into the mattress; Yukio vaguely wonders how many times he'd done this because while he's only walked in on it twice, he's not stupid enough to believe it'd only happened twice.

Yukio goes to his parents' house. It's on the edges of the city, but he can borrow his mothers' old car to get to work, and he still has clothes there, and he could just wait until Ryouta went back to his own apartment—he'd kept it, and Yukio's pretty sure he has an idea why—or until he was at work, to retrieve more suits for work. He vaguely thought of selling off his apartment, maybe requesting a transfer to one of the company's sister branches and buying an apartment in that city. It might just be for the best.

Yukio doesn't contact Ryouta and Ryouta tries a few times before he realizes that it's getting him nowhere. He doesn't know where Yukio's parents' house is, and the company refuses to give him the information.

It's about two months later and three in the morning when he receives a call from an unknown number. Yukio's reluctant to pick up. One, because it's woken him up, and two, unknown numbers were more often than not telemarketers. He answers anyway to a soft, hesitant, shuddering, sniffling voice; undeniably female, undeniably someone he's never spoken to before, and undeniably wondering how the hell she'd gotten his phone number.

"Is this..," she trails off, continuing around a choked breath, "Yukio-san?"

Yukio's all but terribly confused but he answers, and she seems to choke out a sob before she can even continue and he's not sure if it's relief or what, but the next words that leave her mouth sends his heart into his throat and his stomach drops out from beneath him, "Ryou-chan's in the hospital. He—he tried to kill himself!"

Yukio's minds in a whirl, and he's not quite sure when or how he got to the hospital, with the way he's fucking _shaking_ and trying to keep his breathing even and just wondering _why_. He meets the girl, whom he now knows is Momoi Satsuki, another well-known model to whom Ryouta is apparently best friends with, and apparently tells everything to, because she regales him with exactly everything Ryouta's told her.

That he'd not been sleeping well, that he had to rely on pills to sleep to keep the nightmares away. How he'd resorted to cutting himself because he thought he deserved to hurt; to hurt for hurting Yukio-san so deeply. How Satsuki had tried to keep his mind off it, tried to be around him as much as she could, when they both weren't working. How his manager noticed the cuts littering Ryouta's thighs even though he'd gone through the trouble of finding a place where they'd be hidden—where no one would see except for himself. How he'd stopped eating after a while and grew skinnier and skinnier and dark bags formed under his eyes to the point make-up no longer did any good and he couldn't model anymore.

How that'd been the final straw, hiding himself into the bathroom and slicing deep into his wrists in hopes he'd bleed to death, and only Satsuki coming over after hearing how he'd been dismissed had saved his life. And that Ryouta was now connected to tubes and wires and intravenous drips to keep him alive; that the only name he'd been able to utter in his delirium had been Yukio-san.

When Yukio's finally allowed to see Ryouta, it's about three days after Satsuki had called. He hadn't woken, but he'd stabilized well enough for visitors. Satsuki allowed him to go first, claiming that if he woke up, he'd want to see Yukio first. Yukio disagrees, but the girl insists, and so he goes.

Ryouta looks like a frail doll when he sees him. He looks small in the bed, even though the man is well over six feet, but his body is far thinner than Yukio remembers. His skin has lost its golden pallor, leaving behind a sickly, pale white. His hair doesn't shine, a muted, dull blonde taking the place of brilliant, luscious gold. He's afraid to see Ryouta's eyes the most.

Golden-brown eyes that had been vibrant, expressive, and full of life, now underlined by dark bags that showed how drained the man was. Yukio settles on a chair, swallows back his own choked up breath, and wills the tears to stay at bay before grabbing the blonde's bony hand and rubbing a thumb across the skin.

Ryouta doesn't wake up for another week. Yukio meets Ryouta's mom and two sisters. His sisters understand Yukio far better than the older woman does; they're aware how much of a harlot Ryouta could be and so they sympathize with Yukio, rather than their brother. Ryouta's mother, however, finds no fault with Ryouta. He receives all her blame for ending up in this state. "Stay away from him! This is your fault! If he'd never met you this wouldn't have happened!" And various other insults make their way to Yukio's ears.

He excuses himself from her presence until the woman has to leave, snubbing her nose at the man as she walks out of the lobby, mutters under her breath that she suggest he stay away from Ryouta, before she's gone. Ryouta's sisters usher him back into the room, each leaving him with a hug and promising that the woman was just upset because Ryouta's the baby of the family and she'd never thought he could devolve into this. They say they'll be back, they're glad he cares for Ryouta even after what he's done to Yukio, and that they'd be back.

Yukio himself is tired, even though it's the middle of the day. He's barely gone home, and he's called in to work and taken a week off, saying that someone in his family was in the hospital and he couldn't focus on work because of it. He hadn't cared whether it was paid vacation or not. He lays his head on the bed, holding Ryouta's hand and heaving a breath as he dozes off.

Ryouta wakes for the first time in a week disoriented. It's evening, because the sun's going down, casting the room in reds and oranges and pinks. He goes to lift his hand only to realize its being held, and when he looks his breath catches on a sharp cry because it's _Yukio_. Yukio who he'd hurt; Yukio who he didn't deserve. Yukio that he loves so dearly and regrets so terribly what he's done.

Yukio wakes at that sharp cry. Wakes to a weak hand squeezing his tightly, and when he lifts his head and sees Ryouta's eyes open, a muted brown instead of their beautiful vibrant colors, he breaks down for the first time. Unable to help himself as he heaves a breath before he's sobbing, holding Ryouta's hand to his chest and murmuring apologies of his own. Sorry that he'd ignored him. Sorry that he'd not listened to him. Sorry for just leaving Ryouta to his own devices. Sorry for not being there.

Ryouta is stunned, but he also breaks into tears because none of that is Yukio's fault! Ryouta's the one entirely to blame because he couldn't stop spreading his legs for anyone but Yukio. That he had no right to love Yukio, nor the right to receive his love back. Because he's not stupid; he could see how much the man loved him even when he never said so. He wasn't stupid, when he could see how much Yukio still loved him because there was no way the man would be here, would apologize for things that weren't his fault at all, if he didn't love him.

The doctors notice he's awake thanks to the heart rate monitor, and because Yukio's so obstinate in his refusal to leave, they allow him to stay only if he stays out of the way while they run the series of tests that's common for those who've woken from a coma, semi-coma, or otherwise.

Ryouta's mother is less than pleased to learn her son woke to Yukio being there. Even more so when she badmouths the man now that Ryouta's awake and Ryouta tears into her because he loves Yukio and she has no right to claim it's his fault at all; it's all Ryouta's own fault and he knows it!

They wind up discussing the problems Ryouta has with a doctor, and it's agreed that maybe a mental facility would be the best for now. Yukio would be able to visit, and he's more than alright with that if it'd help Ryouta. He declares he wants to change; he wants to be Yukio's only.

Yukio's aware how rough the first month is for Ryouta, but he sees life return to him too, slowly but surely. His color returns, the bags under his eyes disappear, and over-all he's _lively _again and that not only helps Ryouta, but Yukio too. It'd hurt to see Ryouta so broken; more than walking in on him with other men had.

Ryouta talks about that with Yukio too, explains that the thoughts are still there, really, but he's doing better. He's trying to replace those thoughts of Yukio and Yukio only and Yukio leaves him with gentle kisses and hugs to marinate on until they're next able to meet.

Another month down the line and Yukio gets word that his request to transfer has been confirmed, and he all but freezes in place because if he transfers he won't be able to see Ryouta and he's afraid Ryouta will relapse. When he tells him, the blonde just asks if Yukio can visit as often as possible. That it'd be alright, and now that he's heading into the third month, he's allowed three phone calls a week.

Heading into the fourth month, they both realize just how much those phone calls actually _help_. Occasionally he gets a call from Ryouta's sisters, updating him on just how he looks, how much better he's getting, and things in general about Ryouta's condition that the blonde doesn't tell him himself. Yukio makes a decision, then, that he thinks will help Ryouta in the long run.

Yukio buys a small house. It's a single floor, with two bedrooms and a single bath. The kitchen and dining room are a single unit with a laundry room off to the side that lead to a garage. The living room is a decent size as well, leading into the hallway that leads to the beds and bath. It's big enough to be comfortable, small enough to be homey, and he buys it for Ryouta.

Yukio doesn't tell Ryouta right away; hasn't even asked if he'd move to Osaka with him. Instead he spends the final month of Ryouta's rehab repainting the walls and redoing the floors with his sisters' opinions on colors for certain rooms that both he and Ryouta would enjoy.

For now, Yukio's only got a half-full dresser and closet full of clothes, an inflatable mattress on the floor. The kitchen has what few appliances had come from his old apartment, and his mothers' car—given to him when he'd told his folks that he'd be leaving; both a farewell and a congratulatory gift—sat in the garage. The rest of the house was bare besides a TV on the floor and a milk crate as a table in the living room and a washer and dryer in the laundry room. He wanted Ryouta to pick out the furniture; not by himself, but with Yukio.

It's the week before Ryouta's discharge when Yukio finally asks, "Will you move to Osaka with me?" He has to hold the phone away from his ears when Ryouta squeals and avidly agrees, "Yes, Yukio-san, yes!" And with how excited he was, you'd think Yukio had just proposed to him. Well, he mused, maybe in a way he had.

Yukio drives back up to Tokyo the day before Ryouta's discharge. He sleeps at his family home, both to visit his parents and let them know how life in Osaka was, how his job was, and if he was enjoying it. He'd be lying if he didn't, truthfully, because it was different. He tells them about Ryouta, how Ryouta was moving in with him, and that he honestly missed him a lot. He sleeps to dreams of Ryouta's idiotic antics and smiles and charm that night, and when he leaves in the morning and arrives as Ryouta's walking out the doors of the facility, his breath catches in his throat because _god_ he missed him. Ryouta doesn't even let him get out the car; just runs over and kisses Yukio like it's his last kiss on earth, before he gets in the car and Yukio utters, "Let's go home."

Ryouta fervently agrees; falls asleep on the way, and only wakes up once Yukio's parked in the garage, turned the car off, and is shaking Ryouta awake. His eyes flutter open, confused momentarily because hadn't he just gone to sleep in the facility? But then he remembers and he looks around, slightly confused because, wait, what? Yukio just nudges him, murmurs, "Come on," and ushers him out of the vehicle.

Ryouta follows him through a door, yelping as the light in what he understands is a garage goes out, and he sees they're in a small room with a washer and dryer and that a sliding door is open into a decent sized kitchen. It's nice, it really is, he decides. He stops short once in the living room because, wait, what? There's no furniture?

Yukio chuckles at Ryouta's confusion, letting him know that he wanted Ryouta there to pick out the furniture. That it was Ryouta's blank slate to fill, and that Yukio would of course help, but it was ultimately Ryouta's choice. Right now, though, he's tired as hell, and he's glad it's Friday and that he has the weekend off and that they'd go tomorrow. Ryouta all but grabs Yukio and kisses him because holy _shit_ he was happy. Happier than he's ever been and he'd missed Yukio so, so much.

The inflatable mattress in the room is just big enough for the both of them when they both lay down, as long as they slept pretty much on top of each other which, by all means was fine with Ryouta. He has Yukio atop of him, the man's head pressed against his chest and breathing softly, and Ryouta's nearly asleep when he hears soft, whispered words, "Welcome home, Ryouta."

Ryouta smiles, because he had nowhere he'd rather be and no other man in his bed is worth losing Yukio again. Not ever. He tightens his arms briefly, kisses the top of Yukio's hair, and murmurs, "I'm home, Yukio-san."


End file.
